


Last Chance Revival

by 217



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Blow Jobs, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Murphy's terrible use of swear words, Negan (Walking Dead) Swears, Negan can't stand that chicken, Negan's filthy mouth, Oral Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Walking Dead: Here's Negan, Walter the chicken, comic negan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-11-18 06:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11285436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/217/pseuds/217
Summary: My vision blurs despite my protest until I can't hold it in any longer and my dignity cuts down my face. It's the first time in my life that I truly feel a void even though I've been alone most of my life. I'm losing my best friend, and there's not a thing I can do about it. Negan X OC.





	1. Chapter 1

**A/N This fic is from Negan's POV. It's completely AU and has nothing to do with the outbreak. In fact, Negan isn't even a coach in it. Murphy is my really strange OC. She's meant to be one of those people, you know those people, who have a condescending remark for everything you say for their own amusement. I don't know how well I'll convey that. I guess we'll see.**

* * *

"Sign here," the officer tells me.

Night after shit fuck night, some kind of fuckery ensues at the bar I work at. Tonight, a stabbing. Something that happens at least once a month. It doesn't even faze me anymore when I have to clean the blood up. I don't really know why I do it. It's only going to be a matter of time before someone else's blood stains the floor.

As soon as the crime scene tape is lifted, the usual's trickle in the bar.

Pork chop; who got his name because he killed someone with, well, a pork chop.

Hugh Dangler; a washed up porn star from the 80's who spends his nights reminiscing about how the world's not ready for his comeback.

Gary boozy; because he looks like that actor fuck Gary Busey and the more intoxicated he becomes, the more he really thinks he is the guy. He's usually forcefully removed by me when he starts yelling about how he's Gary Busey and he shouldn't have to pay his tab.

Then, the most unlikely of characters. Her. Or as I call her Peggy Bundy. She's always in her leopard spandex and high heels. Bright red lipstick stains the end of her cigarette. She's got a nice fucking rack too that she sometimes lets spill out. However, she's the only person in this bar who doesn't actually order something to drink. Instead, it's, "Barq's root beer, no ice," I wink. She's a really good tipper despite only ordering two sodas before taking off for the night. I like to watch her ass in that spandex as she goes. "Last call," I shout.

Home is on the second floor of a dilapidated apartment complex. This place is such a shit hole, it's known only as Building 22. When I'm not seeing a body taken from the bar, I can always count on a gang fight or drug overdose to claim another victim at home. I'm right next to the staircase, so I get the luxury of hearing every drug deal that goes on. Despite the violence, no one really fucks with me but, then again, I'm six foot eight and almost three-hundred pounds.

"Hey, baby, you looking for a good time?"

"I tell you the same thing every night, Peaches. No."

She lets out a deafening cackle. "Okay, baby. But you know where to find me."

My apartment is number seventeen, but the numbers are gone. Before they were never to be seen again, someone was killed outside my door and the blood splatter outlined the numbers. Home sweet home.

* * *

One of these days I'll actually talk to Peggy Bundy, instead of jerking off at night in the cold shower to her. I notice a small bag of dog food up on the bar next to her purse. "That food for your dog?" I slam my eyes shut. Real fucking smooth, Negan.

"I spread it around my garden for my roses."

At least if she had the fucking dog I could think of a response. I don't know fuck all about flowers.

She sets her usual tip on the counter before gathering her things.

Here's the best part of my night.

"Negan," Pork Chop calls.

I put my hand out to quiet him so I can watch her ass leave this bar in peace. Well, now it's all downhill from here.

* * *

I've done a lot of things for pussy, but I've never actually stayed up all night to write talking points. I got something to say to her today, and eagerly wait for that pert little spandex ass but unfortunately, she doesn't show up that night. Goddammit.

* * *

Naturally, I was caught off guard when she did show up and didn't know what to say. So much for my talking points. It isn't until two weeks later that I finally muster up the courage to talk to her again. "Nurse," I smile.

She glances over her shoulder briefly like I'm talking to someone else.

"You're a nurse, right? That's why you're always coming in here so late."

"I'm a prostitute."

My cigarette just hangs by my bottom lip.

"You know… a hooker."

Is she fucking with me? Is she wanting to fuck me? I clear my throat, continuing to put away the extra glasses. "I know what a prostitute is. Guess… I just didn't expect that."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know that you're resourceful in using the dog food for your garden. I know that you smoke menthols. I know that you'd save a lot more money on lipstick if you didn't." I'm given a smile in return on that. "But, mostly, I know that you sit at my bar every night and stare out that window like you're waiting for something better to come along."

"Maybe I am."

"What are you waiting for?"

"My tab."

Strike two.

* * *

I decided just to leave her the hell alone because I don't really want to be shot down a third fucking time. However, I notice that cigarette of hers between those rouge lips unlit. She's searching in her purse for the lighter. I play it real motherfucking smooth and extend my arm out to light it for her. When she thanks me, I give her a wink and go about my business.

When I shout for last call, as the bar starts to empty I notice she's still sitting there. "I could always break the rules and get you one more," I grin.

"Root beer is non-alcoholic."

Well, that backfired. I fill up her glass before I start to pick up some.

"Light?"

I dry my hands on my pants before getting it. "You know, there are a thousand other places to go to and drink root beer."

"Not since everyone got so uptight about smoking in restaurants. Besides, I enjoy it here."

"This place is a shithole. Not even the rats enjoy it here."

"Is that what keeps touching my foot? I thought that was you."

"If I was going to touch something of yours, it'd be a lot higher than your foot." Oh, goddammit. My mouth is on fucking autopilot. I brace myself for the sting of her hand. Instead, she leans over and uses the flame to light her cigarette.

"If this place is so bad, why do you keep wasting your life in it?"

"It's a job. Besides, you have no room to talk."

"Oh, is that so?"

"You know, just last week they pulled a hooker's body out of the alley. What parts they managed to find. If not for your safety, don't you worry about what kind of disease you might get?"

"Looks like I left the business at the right time." She takes another sip of her soda. "Goodnight."

Quit? "Goodnight…" I pause hoping she'll tell me her name.

"Murphy."

"Are you fucking with me? Like the prostitute thing?

"Why would I lie about my name?

"Isn't Murphy like, well, a dude's name?"

"What is it they call you around here? Megan? Isn't Megan a girl's name?"

"Megan? My name is Negan."

"That makes a lot more sense."

"So… is Murphy your real name?"

"Maybe. I dunno. I need to go. Keep the change, Megan."

* * *

I don't even give Murphy the time of day the following night. Instead, I flirt with one of the regular girls at the bar.

"Negan," Murphy hollers. In her hand, she has the phone at the bar. "It's the testing clinic. Your results are in about that rash. It's kind of urgent you take the call."

Now, the normal fucking person would have enough common sense to know a goddamn clinic isn't going to be open at one am in the fucking morning, but this girl wasn't and she slaps me across the face before storming out of the bar.

Murphy tosses her head back with a laugh.

I pull the phone receiver out of her hand and slam it down. "What the fuck was that?"

"If you want to make me jealous, that's not the way to do it."

I'm kinda fucking speechless right now.

"You don't want someone like that anyhow. Or you really will need to go to the clinic."

"If we're being honest, I don't think it would have ever got to that point. She's probably as boring in bed as she was to talk to."

"With an attitude like that, it's a wonder how you get any girl into bed."

I start to laugh and pour her a root beer. "So, you've got my full attention now."

"Don't I always?"

"Yeah," I smirk, "you do. Where'd you get those sunglasses?" They're a bright red and both lenses are shaped like hearts.

"You can borrow them if you want."

Yep, I sure as fuck took them because I knew if I had them she'd come back for them.

"Why were you trying to make me jealous?"

"Because every other attempt to hit on you didn't work."

"Those attempts all sucked. Besides, I'm married."

"Really? Where's your ring?"

"Well, that didn't go like I thought."

"You shouldn't lie. You're fucking terrible at it," I laugh.

Murphy stretches her arm out and takes the pen by the register. On the napkin, she writes down an address before taking her sunglasses back.

My eyes widen. Is this her address? "You lying about this, too?"

"Maybe. Guess you'll have to see," she smiles.

I don't really know how I feel about calling out the name Murphy when I'm fucking her, but it's not the strangest thing I've said fucking a girl. "Last call," I shout.

"We still got twenty minutes," Pork chop grumbles.

"Not tonight you don't. Get the fuck out." I leave the bar a disaster, and can't remember if I even locked the door. My mind is on one thing. My dick against that leopard spandex.


	2. Chapter 2

Murphy tries to play fucking coy with me, but I ain't in the mood. "That address you gave me was to a staffing agency."

"I thought you didn't like it here. Oh, did you think the address was mine?"

"Well," I redden, "yeah."

"Awkward. Did you at least go inside the office and talk to someone?"

"Did I go inside the staffing agency at 2 am, uh, I'm thinking no. They were closed. So here I am downtown with this fat fucking chubby pushed up against the glass door and no Murphy. Besides, I have a job."

"You should have a career, not a job."

Go figure. After all that, the job shit is what she takes from it. I fold my arms rather defensive. Where the fuck does she get off? I mean, some kind of encouragement really wouldn't be the worst thing right now. "Maybe I'm happy here." Ok, I'm lying.

"You're a bad liar, too."

"I started towards being a coach. Just never finished."

"Women's softball?"

"Huh?"

"That's what you wanted to coach, right?"

I start laughing because she's mocking me from when I tried to ask if she was a nurse. "I wanted to coach kids."

"Guess I should start looking for another place to drink my soda."

"Well, I didn't say I'd fucking do it."

"Probably shouldn't curse around the children."

"Fuck you," I laugh.

"Keep the change."

"Well, wait." Fuck. Just do it, Negan. Quit being such a pussy. "What are you doing after this?"

"Take a nice long warm bath."

"Can I join you?"

"I don't think you'll fit in my tub."

"I could try."

"Why don't you try working towards being a coach, then we'll talk." She tips me almost fifty dollars tonight.

"Neeegan..."

I put my hand out to quiet Gary Boozy so I can watch this ass in peace. I've already got my bachelor's degree. Did my internship. The only thing that was left was to become certified. Maybe she could help me study. Heh. A little one on one.

"Neeegan..."

"Calm the fuck down, and don't think you're going to weasel your way fucking out this time without paying me. Little prick."

Gary Boozy pukes all over the bar.

Maybe I'll look into this coaching shit after all…

* * *

I am lost as a motherfucker on these back roads. Fuck, I can't read a map worth a fuck. There is nothing out this way. I'm starting to think I should turn around. I pull over on the side of the road and kill my bike. Maybe this is a sign I shouldn't be coaching. I can't even find the goddamn place to get my books. When I hear a bicycle bell, I look over my shoulder.

Murphy pulls up beside me. "Are you stalking me?"

The last thing I'm about to admit is that I'm lost, let alone to some hot fucking girl. "I ran out of gas. Wait, you live down here?" Ok, if this ain't a sign, I don't know what fucking is.

"Yeah, it's easier to hide the bodies of the men I bring home when you live out in the middle of nowhere."

"That explains your," I bring my fingers up in quotations, "garden."

"I'd ask you back but, frankly, I'm way too exhausted to dig a hole your size. Though I guess I could always chop you up. You know, piece by piece."

"If you're trying to run me off, it's not going to happen. You'd be surprised what I'd do for pussy." Speaking of bush, I notice a small dead rose bush in her basket. "Don't most people usually buy roses that are alive?"

"I find plants and flowers that are about to die then try to bring them back to life."

"You just go around and steal people's plants and shit?"

"Most of the time they want to pay me for digging the thing up. I'm excited to plant this one, it will be beautiful once it starts to bloom." There's almost a sadness to her smile. "Which one is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you stalking me or are you lost?"

"I told you I ran out of gas."

Her eyes focus in on my gas gauge before she starts to peddle. "Have a good night."

Fuck! "Wait," I call after her.

"The having a good night part implied we're done seeing each other."

"Figured maybe you'd want some help with your bush." Now I'm a funny motherfucker. But she doesn't even crack a smile. Instead, it's almost like she's sizing me up.

"I could use a good scarecrow."

This woman… "How much farther?"

"I'm tired."

"Keep coming up with excuses, Murphy. I've been shot down every way you can think of. I'm a very persistent fuck."

"Yes, it's rather annoying."

"Your place far from here or what?"

She points across the street to a blue gate. "Please leave that contraption at my gate."

Murphy isn't too far off the main road that leads downtown but it still seems like she lives in another world. Past that gate, it's unlike anything I've ever seen. She has a small yard and she really isn't kidding about her garden. There are all kinds of flowers. In the center of it all sits her small white camper complete with one pink stripe going down the middle of it. Once you actually get up to the camper, rocks surround it. Her porch has a nice small table and two person bench. Fountains, candles, and little knick-knacks. Ivy, strung lights, and a white sheet drape over the two person bench.

I'm certain my head is going to hit the ceiling but I'm in the clear. Barely. Her camper smells fresh as fuck. Holy shit, I'm hesitant to sit on anything with my dirty ass jeans with all this white furniture. Murphy has very eclectic taste in decorating. Like a classy as shit taste. If it ain't white, it's not in this camper which actually helped brighten the place up and made it seemed bigger. I have a seat on her couch as she disappears behind a sheer curtain. I'm assuming her room. Hopefully, when she comes back, she's naked. Except I'm not that lucky. "Why's there a goddamn claw foot bathtub in the living room?"

"It doesn't fit in the bathroom."

"Yeah, that makes sense. Not really, but ok." I feel something touch my leg and almost jump up from the couch. "The fuck?!"

"Oh, that's Walter."

"Walter? It's a fucking chicken."

"A Cornish Cross to be exact. I saved him from being slaughtered."

"You one of those activists?"

"No. Walter owed me money from a card game. When he couldn't pay up he became my servant. Can he get you anything while he's up?"

I don't even know why I'm laughing because part of me thinks she's telling the truth.

"This is normally my yoga time, which you're interrupting."

"Well, fuck, don't let me stop you. You got a TV or…" My eyes skim her camper. "Or… uh."

"There are books next to you."

Fuck that reminds me. I need to get those goddamn books still- oh my god. She is limber as fuck! Goddamn, I love yoga! I bring my boot up and sling it over my other knee in an effort to hide what's stirring in my pants.

"You shouldn't sit like that. It's not good for your spine."

"Everyone sits like this."

"Have you ever heard the old adage, if everyone jumped off a bridge would you?"

"I thought you had to be quiet when you did yoga?"

"Suit yourself."

Suit myself? I'm in fucking heaven. This is like some kind of refined peep show. Maybe I should put my tongue back in my mouth. "Ew! The fuck?" I brush my arm off. "This chicken fried fuck just breathed on me."

"Then breathe on him back."

"Look, I am hungry. Do you wanna go to that place around the corner with the Philly cheesesteaks?"

"I don't eat meat."

Damn, I hope that doesn't include tube steak. "I'll eat your meat." I slam my eyes shut. "That's not what I meant."

"I can cook for us."

This outta be interesting. If she doesn't eat meat, I can only imagine what kind of fresh hell I'm in store for. I give Murphy a double take. What she should have said is, I'm going to burn the camper down. This girl could burn water.

"Hmm, just scrape off the burnt part."

"That's all there is," I laugh.

"Fine, let's go eat your meat."

Now I've seen some shit but she actually gets a leash for Colonel Sanders. "That thing ain't going to stare at me while I eat and make me feel guilty is it?"

"I thought a cheesesteak was made with beef?"

"It is."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Murphy, you've got a strange way of looking at things."

"Where are your shoes?"

My shoe- Oh, what the fuck? Now I've goddamn seen everything. This fucking thing has shoes. "Any more accessories you'd like to get the Colonel before we leave?"

"Do you want to walk a mile on the scorching pavement in your bare feet?"

I might just to show her how fucking stupid this whole thing is. This is turning into the strangest night ever, and that says a lot. "Now I know why you bury all those men in your garden. It's the only way you can get them to stick around."

"Does this mean you're going to bail on me? Thank god. I was starting to think I was going to have to suffer through dinner with you."

"Fuck you," I laugh.

"Well," she sighs, "we tried, Walter. So. Megan. What do you normally do on your evenings off?"

"Jerk off to porn that I splice illegally from the neighbor."

"What kind of porn do you like?"

"Girl on girl… on girl. Foot fetish porn. You?"

"I just think about the butcher at the pick-n-save."

I knew I shouldn't have asked. Looks like I'll be taking a trip to the pick-n-save to see my competition. "Wanna make out? You'll forget that butcher real quick."

"I just lit my cigarette."

"What cigarette? Murphy, sometimes I think you don't grasp the concept of sarcasm."

"And sometimes I don't think you grasp the concept of when a woman just isn't interested. Oh, look, we're here. Finally…"

"Guess since this ain't a date, you can pay for yourself," I snicker and order my food.

"Hey, Murph," the guy in the window greets.

Another guy comes to the window. "Is it The Murph?"

"Ladies," she greets them.

"The usual, Murph?"

"Yeah, but," Murphy glances at me for a minute, "a lot of onions."

"That ain't gonna fucking deter me."

"God, I wish something would." She takes Walter over to one of the benches.

Despite my earlier comment, I pay for the both of us before joining her. "How do all these guys know you?"

"They're some of my clients."

"Shut the fuck up," I laugh.

"I eat here every night. They always take good care of me because I take care of them."

Murphy isn't shitting me because I'm brought the biggest fucking sandwich I have ever seen. The cheese was dripping off it. Double fuck me fries. I'm curious to see what her usual is, but it ends up being some grilled sandwich with… "Peanut butter and pickles?!"

"What? There are pickles on here? I said onions!" Murphy snickers before taking a huge bite.

"You're making me sick eating that shit."

"I see my plan to avoid making out worked."

I stare blankly at her.

"Negan, you're way too serious. You need to lighten up. Serious is boring. Serious has never led to boning in the history of anything, ever. Funny bones all day and night."

"Boning?"

"Mhmm. Besides. You're the one I should be worried about. Garlic fries, **and** peppers and onions." Murphy pulls the crust off her sandwich and feeds it to Walter.

You know, she's kind of right. I've been stuck in this rut for so many years, I forgot how to laugh. Before she came along, I really don't even remember the last time I joked with someone. It made me sorta appreciate this woman in a way. She's good for me, and god only fucking knows I need that in my life.

"Do you ever stop and think about how one day someone is going to say your name for the last time?"

"No. I can honestly say, out of everything that has crossed my mind, that's not fucking one of them. Are you ok? You look kinda-" Before I can finish my sentence, Murphy almost hits the pavement but I get to her just in time. "Murphy?" I gently tap her cheek a bit.

"Home," she murmurs.

I hoist her up in my arms before tugging on this things leash. "Come on, Wilson."

"Walter."

Whatever, it's a goddamn chicken. The fucker should be happy we didn't just put him on the grill. "Taxi," I holler, trying to juggle everything.

Once I've been to a place, I have a pretty eidetic memory, and we make it back to her camper. I set her gently on the bed. "Wallace, come here."

"Walter," her faint voice corrects me.

This thing is like on steroids are some shit. Even trying to snatch the leash is damn near impossible and after a broken lamp and a bruised elbow, this thing runs under the bed. "Gotcha! Fuck," I yell when his giant claws dig into my forearms before it hurries off to the living room. Oh, for fuck's sake. "Haha, bitch," I laugh when the leash just barely hooks my index finger. It goes insane, flapping its wings. As soon as I pass him off to Murphy, he's completely tranquil. Of all the fucking... unbelievable.

"Lay down," Murphy tells him.

This cocksucker's coop is nicer than my apartment. Murphy built a swing beside the coop and the coop even has its own chandelier. I have a seat on her bed, feeling her forehead.

"Thank you."

"What can I do for you? Root beer?" When she nods, I go to check out her small fridge. This woman has more root beer than food. I don't understand why she comes to the bar if she could just be at home. There's a straw that I get for her so it's easier to drink before holding the can to help her.

"My life force," she smiles.

"Fucking dork," I laugh, but the truth is, I'm fucking rattled. Now, I'm a special kind of person. I don't rattle easy but her words to me before she practically hit the pavement bothers me.

"Will you water my plant near the couch before you leave for the night?"

Guess that means I'm not sleeping over.

* * *

I figured Murphy would show up to the bar that night but she didn't which only made my time here even more miserable. When I finally close the bar, I start for her camper. Walter is at her gate... I guess clucking? Whatever the fuck a chicken does when it's trying to get your attention. He waddles after me as I haul ass to her camper door. It's open and she's collapsed in the entryway. "Murphy?!" She has a pulse but she's unresponsive. Her skin is pale and clammy. "Murphy, can you hear me?"

Walter starts pecking at her hair.

"Stop that!"

He sasses me back before he continues.

"Make yourself useful! What the fuck do we do?" CPR is pointless, fuck I don't know!

Walter comes back with his leash in his beak.

"Yeah… yeah, good idea, you feathered fuck." I scoop Murphy up in my arms. Walter follows after me to the end of the gate. He's pretty fast. We make it to the end of the road and I wave down a taxi.

"No pets, man. Read the fucking sign."

"Fuck your sign! Get me to the hospital, now, or it's going up your ass." I'm getting fed up with how long this is taking. What if she fucking dies? Fuck this! I open the door once we're caught at a red light and run all the way to the hospital. "Help," I scream. "Help, she's not breathing!"


	3. Chapter 3

I tap my fingers against the bar, waiting for last call.

"Negan, you fucking mind with that shit?"

When I rise to my full dominating height, Hugh Dangler doesn't have anything else smart assed to say to me. The only person that's going to get away with that shit is Murphy. Never in my life would I think I'd be antsy to get off because of a fucking woman. After an overnight stay in the hospital, she was released to go home. I took her back but had to run to this dump as soon as I got her in bed. I'm exhausted from all the back and forth and I still don't have an answer as to what was wrong with her. The doctors won't tell me shit, and Murphy keeps brushing off my questions. Finally. "Last call."

There's no sign of Walter at her gate, and when I let myself in her camper I smell a fragrance.

"It's pretty common to knock before entering someone's home."

My jaw just kinda hangs there. Seems I've walked in on bath time. "I, uh. You know… I was- shit." I fumble for my keys before shoving them down in my pocket. "Sorry," I redden.

"Yeah, yeah. Put your tongue back in your mouth and I might believe you."

"Wait a minute… the fuck are you taking a bath for at 3 am? Huh? I think you wanted me to walk in on you."

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"I think the only reason why you're in that goddamn tub is so I won't ask questions about why you were in the hospital. See, you women are good at that. Diverting our attention with tits."

"Seems I've underestimated you."

"I've got two days off, Murphy. Either tell me what's wrong or I ain't leaving for those two days."

"Well, since you've already let yourself in you might as well make yourself at home then."

I walk over and kneel beside the tub.

"You're worrying for nothing."

"No, I'm not a worrier because it doesn't do fuck all. I know what I saw, Murphy. You stopped breathing. Your coloring. Even the Colonel fuck was worried."

That drops her guard as her concerned eyes shift over to Walter. "It was heat exhaustion. Honestly."

"I think you're full of excuses," I frown.

"Better than being full of manure."

That gets me as my lip tugs upward. "Do you really not swear?"

"You swear enough for the both of us."

"How about I get in the tub and you can wash my mouth out with soap?"

Murphy yanks the stopper from the tub. "Oh, shoot. My hand slipped."

"My dick is about to slip into something."

"Gosh, your pick up lines are terrible. Seriously? Your doodle is about to slip into something?"

"My fucking what?" I bellow out a laugh. "When I finally do slip inside you, you better not refer to my cock as a doodle."

"I hardly doubt if you're inside me you're going to be worried about what I'm saying."

"Good fucking answer." I hand her the towel and be a good fuck and turn the other way. Hopefully, it's going to earn me some fuck points. "I'm going to go home and fire one off to you anyhow. This is just saving me the trouble."

"That reminds me. The butcher will be at the pick-n-save in the morning. We should go. You could be my wingman."

I rub my brow in annoyance. Fuck yeah, I'm going. But only because I want to size this fuck up.

"Have a seat. I'll make us some breakfast after I dress."

If her breakfast is anything like her dinner, I'm going to end up starving. I decide to take matters into my own hands. Damn, this girl really doesn't have much. I find some pasta, the best-looking tomatoes I have ever seen, along with a few other little things.

"I see my plan to have you cooked worked perfectly. What are we having?"

"Spaghetti. Sorta."

"For breakfast?"

"It's dinner time for me, and this is what we're eating."

"I've never seen spaghetti broiled before."

"I'd say do it yourself but last time you almost burn your camper down."

"Oh, that was just a ploy to get you to leave."

"I told you… I'm very persistent."

"Unfortunately."

"Keep acting like you don't want little Negan, Murphy."

"I definitely don't want  **little**  Negan."

Fuck! "That's not what I meant!" Goddamn her. Breakfast dinner doesn't go at all like I planned. Which would have entailed me fucking her on the table. As if I wasn't already a bitch, now I'm getting ready to take her to see that guy. "Wait, aren't you going to put on some other clothes or something?"

"What's wrong with my outfit?"

"Here you're trying to fuck this guy and you look like you just rolled out of bed. Not to mention your hair is a goddamn mess."

"Pfff, and? I'm not going to dress up for a man. If he doesn't like the way I look, oh well. This is who I am."

For the record, I'd still fuck the fucks right out of her. She takes me to this hole in the wall fucking dump of a supermarket. "What's your deal with the butcher if you don't eat meat?"

"I told you, I want to bone him."

"Where is he?"

"Behind the counter."

"All I see is that old dude. Wait a fucking minute… that's **the**  butcher? My god, Murph, he's like fifty fucking years old."

"Seasoned."

"I bet he can't even get it up if he could see it over that gut."

"He's not overweight, in fact, he's rather muscular. I don't mind a little extra pudge on his stomach. Besides, I enjoy his Russian accent. Gruff, deep voice. Rough hands. Wide shoulders. Tall, so very tall."

"Sounds like me aside from the accent."

"Yeah, I guess you'll have to do. Just wish you were twenty years older."

"You know, I'd be really fucking offended right now if you didn't just imply you were going to take me home and fuck me into submission."

"Or the restroom here."

"How much of this conversation is you fucking with me? Is that even the fucking butcher?"

"The Murph," the butcher smiles.

"Fucking pathetic," I grimace when I watch her lean seductively against the counter.

"I make special deal for The Murph. Any meat you want!"

"She wants your meat," I cough.

Murphy elbows me in the side. "Just some of your special seasoning today," she giggles.

Special season- The fuck? Is that a fucking semen reference? This is ri-goddamn-diculous. "Hey, Murphy, I'm going to go see if the pharmacy has your prescription filled for that cream you need. Do you want me to see if they have an applicator, too?" I have to walk away from them because the look on her face right now is so fucking funny. I almost puke in the cereal aisle from laughing as hard as I am.

"Thanks for your help."

"Any fucking time."

"I'm being serious. He gave me his number. I knew you being there would give him that little nudge."

"Wha… even after all that genital cream talk?"

"He barely understands English so little good your insult did."

"Well," I whine. "Fuck. What's wrong with me?"

"I told you, I like seasoned men."

"So you're telling me I gotta wait twenty years to fuck you?"

"Depending on how you age, twenty… twenty-five years."

I swipe the paper from Murphy's hand. "You fucking liar. This is a recipe for seasoning, not his number. Here I am sweating this fucking meat jockey for nothing."

"I knew I should have just told you I was a lesbian, but then I figured that'd be worse because you'd be on this sexual conquest to try and get into my spandex."

"I can try and work with your spandex if you want to leave them on."

She snaps me a glare. "Come on, Clifford, let's go get something to eat."

"I ain't no fucking dog."

"Really? Well, who's following who?"

Goddamn her. "Shut up." And to add insult to injury, guess who bought lunch? This game is getting a little old. Especially when the afternoon is spent lugging around bags of soil shit for her garden and all the grunt work she doesn't want to do. Do this, Negan, do that. I'm fucking done. Yeah, it's shallow not to stick around but I want pussy. Not a fucking wife. Maybe I'll take Peaches up on her offer. "Murph, I'm gonna take off. Murphy?"

She's sagged against her wall.

"What's wrong?"

"Just light headed." She seems embarrassed and tries to play it off.

"Let me help you." I think my dick actually receded inward looking at her bed. All this frilly fuckery and pillows. "Sweet fucking fuck. These sheets are softer than my foreskin."

"Really now?"

"Yeah, wanna feel?"

Her eyes are slowly brought up to mine. "No," she murmurs.

I don't believe her. Not that I ever do when it comes to the bullshit that leaves her mouth. I press my knee to her bed, planting my hands firmly against the mattress on either side of her hips. "I'll make you forget that butcher real quick."

"Negan-"

"I've been quite the submissive fuck for you, Murphy, and now it's time to make you mine." I capture her lips before she tries to give me another reason we can't fuck.

Her fingers claw at the back of my hair, drawing me in harder against her lips.

"I fucking knew it," I snarl, nipping at her bottom lip. Ms. I have a fucking rebuttal for everything sure fucking didn't have shit to say. "Oh, fuck, the fuck?" I shake my foot when Walter plops down on it.

"Bad," Murphy says, shooing him away.

The fucking thing actually tries to get between us.

"This takes cock blocking to a whole new level." Fuck, I want to be mad, but all we can do is fucking laugh. "I'm gonna take a piss, but then be ready, Murphy. And no more fucking excuses." If this fat fucking chubby I'm left with will go down so I can pee. I shake my head when Walter starts squawking again outside the bathroom door. What an attention whore. I thought I was bad-

"Stop," Murphy pleas, followed by a painful whimper.

The fuck? As I open the bathroom door to see the commotion, my grin melts away in horror.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Sorry, I meant to post this a lot sooner but I've been extremely ill. Thank you for all the reviews! I really appreciate it, loves! :)**

* * *

My hand wraps around the hair of the intruder on top of Murphy with such force, I actually rip it from his scalp. I am  **just** getting started. "You fucking pussy!" Walter starts pecking at his feet but only until I lift him from the ground, slamming him against the wall. "Look at me, motherfucker." There are few memories in a person's life that they can vividly recall. Something assures me that this cocksucker is going to remember everything about this one. Rather than put Murphy through any more trauma, I drag him outside so she's not a witness to the brutal beating I deal out. By the end of it, he's begging me to call the cops. I pick up Murphy's garden shears and press my boot to his stomach. "Get a good look, motherfucker. If you ever come near her again, I swear to fuck on floozy I'm going to use these to make my point. Under-fucking-stood?"

He nods fearfully.

I strike him across the face with the shears several more times. Part of me regrets not chopping the fuckers sack right off, but let's be fucking real. If I do that, I'm going to jail. I'll piss away any chance at becoming a coach. I think he got the message because when the cops come, he's practically running to the police car to get away from me. Not to mention he's pissed his pants.

"Sign here," the officer tells me. It's the same one I always deal with at the bar. "Trouble sure seems to find you."

I almost go to jail that night because I am not in the mood for any fuckery. Especially after something like this. Murphy was almost raped because some son of a bitch thought she was alone. Christ, what if I would have gone home like I had planned instead of staying here? I notice she's calming Walter as she talks to one of the officers about what happened. She doesn't seem shaken up but rather more concerned with comforting Walter. When we're finally left alone, I want to pull her into my arms but honestly, I don't know what to do. I've never been in a situation like this before. Asking her if she's alright is just fucking stupid. Yet, I don't want to come across as cold or unsympathetic.

"He didn't even offer to buy me dinner, he just let himself in."

"Murphy, that is not fucking funny. Now isn't the time for joking."

"Actually, it's the perfect time for joking."

"Christ, you were almost raped! What would have happened if I wasn't in that fucking bathroom!?"

"Watch your tone. You're scaring Walter."

"Fuck Walter! I mean, fuck! That's not what I fucking mean. Murphy, talk to me. Acting like nothing happened doesn't change the situation."

"Perhaps things would be different if you weren't in the bathroom, but I'm not going to dwell on what could have been. Yes, I'm shaken up, but the important thing is I'm alright. I don't understand why you're taking this so personal. Negan, what happened was not your fault and it could have happened to anyone."

"I was going to leave, Murphy. I was tired of being your fucking errand boy when all I wanted was my dick sucked. So, there. I'm a piece of shit."

"You should get going. You've had your two days off so they'll be expecting you at the bar tonight."

I don't even know how to fucking respond to that nor do I get the chance because she closes the camper door behind her and locks it. "Fuck!"

* * *

I didn't go to work that night. The way things ended between Murphy and I just kept fucking with me. Mostly because I just kept worrying about another fucking lunatic breaking into her camper. Fuck, I have half a mind to tow that thing to my apartment. Okay, maybe that's even more dangerous than her being out in the middle of nowhere. Fuck it, I'm not going to sit here one more minute not knowing if she's okay.

I slide my hands into my pockets as Murphy sits at my feet tending to her garden. All this worrying for nothing.

Murphy holds up this yellow flower. "Want one?"

"Sorry, I'm a tulip guy."

"Oh, I get it. A vagina reference."

"Murph, you take the fucking right out of fun."

"That reminds me. Since I won't be performing any fellatio on you, you might as well be leaving."

"I'm sorry. Will you just talk to me?"

"No, please leave."

"This has all gotten blown out of fucking proportion." Murphy tries to get her distance by going in the camper but I'm not giving up this time.

"I want you to leave."

"Look, that was a fucking jackass thing to say and I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted. Please close the gate behind you."

"No, because I'm talking to you. What are you so fucking scared of? I know you feel something for me. Talk to me. Don't shut me out."

She just stares back at me like I'm not speaking English, then goes to light her cigarette.

"Murphy!" As I start to apologize for raising my voice, she interrupts me.

"Negan, I'm sick."

"With like the flu or some shit?"

"More… terminal."

Terminal? "Give me those goddamn things," I yell, swiping the cigarettes from her hand. "You can't get better sucking poison down."

"What part of terminal don't you understand? There is no second chance for me, Negan. I'm not going to get better, so let me have my cigarettes."

"Well... it can't hurt, right?" I'm so goddamn upset about what she's told me. I choke out the next question not sure if I want the answer. "How much time do you have?"

"Three months. And that's being optimistic. I tried to push you away-"

"Then we'll make the best of the time we have." I smile weakly, taking her hand. That's why she's spent her life-saving things. Walter. Why she doesn't eat meat, or maybe the meat just makes her sick. Her garden.

_I'm excited to plant this one, it will be beautiful once it starts to bloom._

That's why there was a sadness to her smirk. She's not going to live to see it bloom. Murphy wasn't into the butcher at all. She just tried to deter me. Made up some bullshit about how I'd have to wait years to fuck her because by then she'd be gone. "Now we can spend the next three months arguing about this shit, or spend it having kinky fucking fuckery."

"Can't you see that I'm trying to spare you heartache? If you weren't so persistent! So hard headed."

"Well, too fucking late for that shit. Look, I can't imagine how hard this must be for you, and I'm not trying to make this difficult, but... fuck, Murphy. I don't want to lose you."

"But you  **will**  lose me."

"It's not fair you won't even give me a fucking choice to be by your side."

"Don't talk to me about fair. I'd appreciate it if you'd respect my wishes and leave."

"If I knew then what I know now, do you really think it would change my decision to get to know you? I'd never do this to you, Murphy. Make you leave without a choice. But I guess none of that matters now since you've come to this decision on your own."

"Goodbye, Negan."

Her tone stings because I know my words don't mean fuck all to her. When the door locks behind me, it's clear I'll never see this woman again. I collapse on the gravel pathway when all the air is forced from my lungs. The sharp rocks against my hands leave impressions in the skin from holding my weight up. My vision blurs despite my protest until I can't hold it in any longer and my dignity cuts down my face. It's the first time in my life that I truly feel a void even though I've been alone most of my life. I'm losing my best friend, and there's not a goddamn thing I can do about it.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N If you're bothered by smut you probably don't want to go any further. I know it's been awhile since I've updated so I apologize for that!**

* * *

I'm ready for a wrong look from anyone to take out my aggression.

"Negan," Pork chop calls again.

I practically break the beer bottle slamming it on the counter.

"You been kinda… weird."

This motherfucker kills someone with a pork chop and calls me fucking weird. The Murphy thing is just fucking me up one side and down the other. My four-day streak of silence ends when someone lets themselves in after hours. "We're closed," I tell the intruder, then pray they'll start some shit. I'd love to knock someone's fucking teeth down their throat. I show her mine before pointing at the door she came through. "I said we're fucking closed."

"I miss you."

"Don't even give me that shit, Murphy. You know, I cried on your steps like a little bitch."

"I'm only trying to spare you the heartache."

"Save it. I've got work to do, get out."

She slams her small hand against the bar top. "F this s, Negan! I'm talking to you!"

I stare back at her a few times, blinking heavily. "Did you just say… f this s?"

"Yes. F it. It's a bar, who cares if it's clean?"

"Yeah, you're right." I yank her to me by her wrist. "You deserve margarita salt in your ass crack after you dismissed me like you did." I drop her on the bar rather aggressively. Not that I mean her harm, but I'm assuming she's not here for root beer.

She touches my cheek. "Talk to me."

"No, I'm done talking. I'm going to fuck you. Then you're going to take me home and burn me something to eat."

Her hand moves around the back of my neck and she pulls me to her lips.

I'm going to look like a fucking clown with all this lipstick everywhere. And it is everywhere. My ear. My neck. "Fuck." My cock. "You're not wasting any time, are you?"

"Time isn't really on my side."

"Way to kill my fucking boner, Murph."

"You don't seem to be having problems in that department."

"I liked it better when your lips were on my cock. You couldn't talk that way."

"I like my lips on you better, too. You didn't talk that way."

Fuck, is she right about that. Just muffled vowels or consonants. I don't know how she's even able to get me in her mouth on the bar like this, but she contorts like some cock sucking gymnast champ. She doesn't neglect my balls, either. Women always neglect your balls, but not her. I run my hand up her spandex and over her ass before giving it a sharp smack. I love the way it bounces in response at my touch. "Ow," I grunt when she smacks my balls.

"It's only fair."

I grab the waistband of her spandex and start tugging them off. "I'll show you fucking fair, woman." Shit, fuck. She's not wearing any panties. You gotta be fucking kidding me with this shit.

She parts her legs with a smirk, removing her shirt and bra. "Make sure you lap up the margarita salt, too."

Fuck! I drop to my knees and bury my face in slick wet heat. The tip of my tongue traces soft pink. I push my lips against her skin as she moans and grabs my hair. I'm such a bastard, only letting her think she's going to come before pulling away. "Sometimes I get a little carried away and can say some pretty vulgar shit."

"I don't care," she pants, grinding her clit harder against her fingers before helping herself find her release.

"Mmm, that's my girl. So fucking horny you can't even wait for my cock." I drop my shirt to the floor.

She throws her head back with a cry, turning her fingers faster. "Yes!"

I ease just the tip in her because I love the feel of a woman as she tightens around me.

"I almost swore that was so good."

I'll take that as a challenge and delve deep inside her. "Fuck, you're tight."

Murphy hauls off and slaps me. "Don't act surprised!"

"Shit, I wasn't! It was meant as a compliment, goddamn!"

"Sorry," she frowns, slapping me again.

"The fuck was that for?"

She throws her head back with a laugh.

Just for that, I grab a piece of ice and run it over her little peak.

"Hey!"

"Sorry," I mock her, doing it again, then trail it down her stomach. I tease her with it until it melts away. "God, you're fucking hot."

"I know," she moans, "it's why the ice melted."

I thrust all the way to the hilt. "That wasn't even clever."

Murphy braces the bar and pushes against me.

"Goddamn, woman." I grab her by the throat, feeling her tighten.

"You should get on your knees again."

I let out a heavy breath and still my hips. "I'm trying to fuck you."

"I want your tongue. I can use my dildo any time."

"Are you fucking with me right now? Like that butcher thing?"

"At least he knew how to use his tongue."

"Wh- I…" I send this woman into a frenzy. She regrets asking me because I don't just stop after the first one.

"No, stop, please. No more." She tries to move my head away.

I just laugh and watch her squirm. Jesus, I almost end up with a bald patch from how tight she's tugging. My fucking knees ache and my tongue is almost raw but I stand up in victory. I slap that pert little ass several times as she whimpers exhausted with each one. "Mouth. Cock. Now." I drag this out as long as I possibly can.

She fucking knows it because those eyes just burn up at me in frustration.

"I'm having fun." I'm not really sure what she muffles. I don't really care. This back and forth bullshit of us trying to one up each other is so fucking hot. She's a fucking tease. I'm a bastard. We're perfect.

Murphy throws her head back with a yell as her back arches and she takes all of me.

I run my index across her bottom lip. "Goddamn, you are the filthiest fuck I have ever met."

"I know," she moans, taking my finger in her mouth.

"Oh, fuck! You make my dick so fucking-" When the bell on the door moves, my eyes shift over to see the girl from the convenience store next door. "I think this just became a threesome."

Murphy licks up the side of my ear. "You can let her watch."

"Oh, god," the girl panics, hurrying from the bar.

"Well," Murphy starts, as she moves her fingers between her legs. "I can cross that off my bucket list."

"Fuck. Fuck. My fuck." My fingertips run up her torso, over her breasts and when I graze her perky nipples, I'm finally given my reward.

"Negan," Murphy whines.

"Oh, fuck yes, come for me, Murphy." That red lipstick shamefully smeared all over her face. Those flushed massive titties that I have came to so many times to in the shower. As I start to pull out, she yanks me back by the hips and I shoot hard inside her. There is no better feeling than this right here. Just frenzy simultaneous release. My hands brace the bar top as I moan heavily. "Fuck!"

"Oh, I can't possibly move right now."

I grab the bar gun and start to spray her off.

She whines, parting her legs more. "Don't make me any stickier."

God, she's a pervert. The way I like my women. "It's just water." It's actually really fucking practical.

"Jesus, this is hardly sanitary."

I don't even bother looking where it lands when I toss it towards the sink, then dry her off.

Murphy lets me dress her while her only concern is fixing her lipstick.

I slip on Murphy's heels for her before helping her down from the counter. "Maybe I sorta missed you, too."

Her arms lock around me as she scoots closer.

I kiss the top of her head before returning her hug. "So does this mean you've got your head out of your ass?"

"I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

"Yeah, I know what I'm getting into. I can still taste it on my lips."

* * *

Murphy studies the wall of dildos intensely before her eyes light up. "This one."

"This store is giving me a raging hard-on. They got some place in the back we can try this shit out?"

"They have dirty movies in the back."

"Hell fucking no. Guys blow their loads all over that floor."

"Do you folks need any help?"

I snap my head over my shoulder. "No, I don't need your fucking help picking out something to go inside of my girlfriend. How about you fuck off?" Of all the fucking places someone could ask if I need help, this ain't fucking one. What a nightmare. Now I'm all jealous thinking about some dude knowing what I'm going to be doing to Murphy later. "What are you smiling at?"

"You called me your girlfriend. It was just sweet."

I sigh heavily. "I'm losing my chubby here."

"You must not have seen these then."

Now, I've fucking seen everything. Or so I thought because it's some silicone torso with tits. "Holy shit. That's ingenuity at it's finest." I turn the box around some. "Four hundred dollars? Jesus. I need a loan just to fuck this thing."

"Yeah, but it has two openings."

"I'd rather play with your two openings," I smirk.

"Let's get some lube then."

Fuck, it's times like this I wish I didn't have a motorcycle. Though I'm not complaining on the ride home when she keeps reaching around and rubbing on my dick. I try to fuck her on this outside swing of hers but she goes inside her camper without me. Dammit. "What's the leather jacket doing here? You got a boyfriend I don't know about?"

"No, it's like Cinderella's glass slipper. The men I bring over I make them try it on and if it fits I know they're the one."

"You are such a weird broad, Murphy," I laugh.

"It's for you." She takes it from the back of the chair and hands it over.

"For me?"

"Yes. The you part implies you."

I've never had anything this nice before. This expensive. I know if I open my mouth and tell her that, she'd try and be funny by asking what she's going to do with her money after she's gone so I just graciously accept the gift.

"You can wear that and only that to bed."

Sweet fucking fuck. Play it cool, Negan. "What if I want to fuck you in it on your counter?" Fuck it, close enough.

"Why not both?"

I knew I liked this woman. "Goddamn, good fucking answer," I grin devilishly, giving her a sharp smack to her spandex.

* * *

The first time I really noticed that Murphy was sick was when she didn't fill out those pants. Every day it seemed like she was losing more and more weight.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Your ass." I try to hold it together. I try to be this support for her, but I can't. "I'm fucking scared, Murphy."

"Of my ass? It's not that bad, is it?" She twists to take a look at it but loses her coy grin when she sees I'm not playing. When she has a seat beside me, she takes my hand. "I've had a lot of time to come to terms with this, Negan."

"Well, I guess I'm just a pussy then."

"Negan, anything that we love comes around in another form. It will be alright, I promise."

"I didn't say I loved you." I give a chortle at my own words. "Christ, can't I retain some type of masculinity in this relationship?"

"What did you expect being with someone who has a dude's name?"

I pull this strange broad in my arms, resting my chin on her head. "Are my feelings for you that obvious?"

"No. But I want you to know before I'm too sick to tell you that I do love you. Thank you for making these last days actually worth something."

"I want to thank you, Murphy, for teaching me how to laugh. I was a real angry son of a bitch, but I don't feel that way anymore. It's something that will always stick with me."

"You have to laugh in life. It doesn't cost anything to do or give," she smiles.

It will cost something though. Murphy's life. Maybe not at this moment, but it will eventually. I hope that when it does happen, she'll look down on me and be proud of the man I'll become. And, if nothing else, I can make her laugh with the shit that comes out of my mouth.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Just some trivia, Murphy's name came from Jack Nicholson's character McMurphy in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. This is the final chapter.**

* * *

_Don't grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form._

* * *

 

"Fuck this, I give up."

Murphy pulls my book back. "You can do this."

"I don't want to do this."

"I'll wear the Wonder Woman outfit for you."

Don't fucking judge me. So I have the hots for Lynda Carter. The original Wonder Woman from the 70's. "Will you tie me up with your lasso? I've been real fucking bad."

"That's not the point of her lasso."

"Like fuck it's not. You know how many times I've fired one off to that fantasy?"

"Probably as many times as I've rubbed one out to Jack Nicholson."

"No, you goddamn didn't."

"I like older men."

"Give me the fucking book before I puke." Now all I can think about is her fucking someone that isn't me. There goes my boner.

"Do you want me to burn you fish sticks or chicken nuggets?"

Yeah, so maybe I kinda moved in with Murphy. "Nuggets."

"Don't let me catch you feeding them to Walter again."

"That fucker took them off my plate." I look over at him. "Cannibal."

He squawks back at me.

"I'm going to feed my roses while these burn."

I get up from her bed and walk over to the kitchen window. They're almost in bloom, which means our time is up. I want her to see them bloom more than anything. All the work she's put into them. I've never be more grateful for a bush in all my life. It was the gateway into us getting to know each other further. I look down between my boots when I feel Walter on them. "Unbe-fucking-lievable." This motherfucker shit on my boot. I dig into the bag of frozen chicken nuggets and drop one on the floor. "Whoops." I chuckle as I watch him pluck at this frozen meatsicle feeling a morbid sense of satisfaction. This is so fucking fucked.

* * *

I rub my brow becoming overwhelmed as I stare back at the questions on the test. Everything I have worked towards just seems to escape me, and I can't understand any of this. It's not just letting myself down, but all the time Murphy spent helping me. Time she doesn't even have. As I draw my hand back I turn my hand over. My lip coils upward. She's written that she loves me on my wrist. She must have done it when I passed out face first in the books. A second wave comes over me, and I answer questions without hesitation.

When I get home, I walk into her ass sticking up in the air. Christ, not that yoga fuckery.

"Tell me what I want to hear, and I'll stay in this position."

"You ever fucked a coach before?" I grin, scooting up behind her.

"I did bone a-"

"Shut up, Murphy, and just call me coach Negan while I fuck you." As I start to give it to this woman, and I mean give it to her like call the cops because she's being murder screams, I notice the writing again on my wrist.

"Is the stopping part of the roleplay?"

"I love you, too, Murphy." I pull her up and over to her couch, showing her my wrist.

"I know it's there. I wrote it."

"I'd fucking strangle you but it'd probably get you off."

"I wish something would."

You know it's bad when I'm the one not down to fuck. "I wish you would fucking take something seriously. It's not a goddamn joke. I want you to fucking know how I feel because, unlike everyone else, we might not get another chance."

"Would you offer to be by my side, knowing I'm dying, if you didn't love me?"

Murphy had taught me so many things about life. It was like the more she did, the more of a toll it took on her body. I had to call 911 that night because I couldn't wake her up after she fell in the shower. The doctors were able to revive her, but how long before we are back in this same situation? I feel a lot better once I get to speak with her in the morning. Fuck, she just has this hold on me.

"How did I get here?"

"You fell. The doctor said you can't shower alone anymore. I'll have to supervise them."

"If you want nightmares."

"Why would I have nightmares watching you all wet and soapy? Fuck, I'm hard right now."

"Have you ever actually watched a woman shave between her legs. It's horrifying. One leg this way while I'm trying not to slice anything open. I'm telling you, it'll shatter the illusion between us. Let's leave some things a mystery."

"Colonel cluster fuck tried to peck my ass the other day while we were fucking. More than once. Please, tell me how anything is more terrifying than that?"

"Speaking of, we should probably get back and see what he's up to."

"He'll survive. You, get some rest-"

"I love you."

Her actually taking something serious that I've said scares me. It truly makes me feel alone as I watch her sleep. After one of the nurses takes her vitals for the night, I climb into bed with her. "I'm not ready, Murphy. Please, just give me a few more days."

* * *

Passing my exam was just the start. Not many places were looking for help, and I don't feel right living off of Murphy's savings. I needed to provide for us.

"The camper is portable, we could always try another place."

"Yeah, but your doctors are here."

"They have doctors in other places."

"What about your garden?"

"Why are you being so combative?"

"Because you're not being fucking honest with me. I found a clump of your hair in the trashcan. A clump, Murphy. How long has this been going on?"

"It's only happened a few times."

"Moving is too stressful as a healthy person and I won't put that on your body." I didn't have to put it on her and catch this woman as she faints. Riding alongside that ambulance, I know it will be the last time.

* * *

They move Murphy into a room upstairs rather than ICU. I was given those few days like I had asked, but I didn't do anything with them. I just feel like there's more I should have done for her. Over the next few days, I watch Murphy hang onto her life. I don't want to see her suffer anymore. She can't breathe on her own that well, so they've been giving her oxygen. Just one more machine hooked up to her frail body. Every other day I go home to check on Walter. Sometimes, I'll bring up flowers from Murphy's garden and put them in a vase by her bed, but still no roses yet. Later that week, I get a call on my cell phone. I ignore the number, but they leave a voicemail. It turns out to be one of the schools that had got my information from a high school I applied at. "I have an interview at the middle school."

"That's who that was?"

"Yeah. They want me to come at 5."

"My levels are a lot better today. Don't pass this opportunity up, Negan."

I feel like this is my last chance to make something of myself. "I don't want to leave you."

"It's an hour. Two tops. I'll be fine. Wonder Woman is on."

"Well, I sure ain't going now." As the time starts to near towards five, the antsier I become. "Murphy," I panic when her eyes close.

"Quiet. I'm trying to imagine what you're going to look like in some short gym shorts when you get this job."

Nothing she fucking says surprises me anymore. Not even the fact that she probably really is imagining it. "You pervert."

"So short your ding-a-ling hangs out."

"Alright, Jesus. I'll go to the fucking interview."

"I'm so proud of you," she smiles.

I guess I am, too. I worked really fucking hard to do this. Now if only I could make something of myself. "I want to ask you something." I nudge her a bit. "Murphy?" I feel for a pulse and sigh relieved. She's just sleeping. Maybe it's fucking stupid, but I reach into my pocket and fish out this ring I bought her. It's simple, but it's classy as shit. I slip it on her ring finger. Whether I get this job at the school or not, I'm just happy to have her in my life.

My interview is awkward as fuck. I don't really know what these people are looking for, but it ain't me. I reach a point during the interview where I just shut down. Her phone rings and I use it as an opportunity to sneak out.

"Negan," the principal calls, putting her hand over the receiver. "We look forward to having you on board," she smiles.

"Wha- I…" I got the job? I got the job! "Thank you," I tell her gratefully. "Thank you so much."

I swing by the camper just to check on the roses. There's a single white rose that has bloomed. Finally. Fucking finally, and on the best day of my life nonetheless. I got the job, and her levels are getting better. Now, I didn't know this, but these fuckers have thorns on them. "Goddamn. Shit. Fuck." I pluck this perfect fucker from the bush, and ride about six miles an hour to the hospital so I don't damage the petals. It's a little bloody at the stem, but other than that, it makes it. "Murphy! Murphy!" I run down the hospital hall. "Guess what! I got it! I got the job-"

"I'm sorry," the doctor tells me. "I'll give you a few minutes before they remove her."

The rose slips from my fingers, hitting the linoleum. "No," I whine. My throat closes. My palms sweaty. I remember thinking how much I hated seeing her hooked up to all the machines, but now I'd give anything to have them back and keeping her alive. When I touch my fingers to her arm, I collapse at the cold vacant vessel she's become. "Goddamn you, Murphy," I sob against her side. She knew if I found out she didn't have much time, I'd skip the interview. I wish she could have seen her ring. Could have known that I got this job. Could have seen her fucking rose. Murphy taught me what it meant to be a man. How to laugh, and feel things that human beings should. I'm not just some corpse drifting through life anymore. I press my lips to her forehead before easing her red heart-shaped sunglasses on. "Thank you."

* * *

There were times that I wanted to give up. I wanted to say fuck it all but then it'd be like giving up on her. I had 'The Murph' put on her tombstone, and transplanted her roses so they'd fill the spots besides the grave nicely. I bring Walter up sometimes so he can visit her grave. He misses the fuck out of her. I miss the fuck out of her. "Hey, don't eat that dog food. It's for the roses." Murphy's trailer now resides in my backyard of the house I bought. Walter stays there, but sometimes I'm found sleeping in her old bed. It helps on the more difficult nights, but nothing truly takes the pain away. Still, I know every time I look in the mirror, or laugh, she's with me because she holds all the credit for making me the man I am.

That fall I start with the school. If not for Murphy, I'd still be rotting away in that shithole of a bar. Cleaning up the next body. I run my thumb over Murphy's picture before setting it on my desk.

"Hi," a warm voice greets. "You're the new coach?"

"Yeah. I'm Negan. Coach Negan."

She smiles back at me warmly. "I'm Lucille."

* * *

**A/N I truly enjoyed Negan and Murphy so I have another fic in the works called Last Chance Survival where Murphy (Walter, too!) manage Sanctuary's greenhouse once I finish Stigmatic. Thanks for reading everyone! -217**


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